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HOUSTON AND HOUSTONIANS 211EARLY TRAGEDIES.N evening or two ago I dropped in' to see some movingpictures on the southeast corner of Prairie Avenue andMain Street. While I watched a mimic tragedy picturedon the screen, it occurred to me that identical locality had beenthe scene of more real tragedies than any other place in Houston,or perhaps any other single point in Texas. The reason isobvious when it is said that on that corner was located one ofthe most fashionable saloons in town and that the spacious secondstory was devoted to gambling and billiards.Before the war the saloon was owned and run by a man namedCharles Harris. He was a man of good manners and considerablepolish; was known to be a "square man" and had numerousfriends. In those days the modern club was unknown,and lawyers, doctors, bankers, merchants, and in fact everybodywent in saloons and billiard halls and thought no more ofdoing so than they do today of going to a restaurant or a sodafountain. Harris, as I have said, was popular and his place wasgenerally well filled, while the billard hall and faro bank upstairsdid a thriving business.Now, when gambling and whiskey get together there is morethan apt to be trouble, and Harris' place was a shining exampleof the truth of this. There were a number of very large sycamoreand cottonwood trees growing both on the Main Streetand the Prairie Street side of the place, so Harris chose as aname for his saloon "The Shades." On one occasion a younglawyer congratulated Harris on the appropriateness of the name,but suggested that it would be still more appropriate if he couldhave the "S" painted out and leave it "Hades." "Then," saidhe, "the only objection that could be raised is that yours is thehome of imported spirits while the other is the home of exportedspirits."When I was a little fellow I remember seeing a big blacksmith,who had a shop on Travis Street, between Preston andPrairie Avenues, come running out of the saloon with somethingthat looked like an axe-handle in his hand. He was closelyfollowed by another man, without a hat, whose head and facewere covered with blood. This man had a big bowie knife inhis hand and just before the blacksmith reached the cornerwhere Dr. Robert's residence stood, but where now stands theLumbermans National Bank, he caught up with the blacksmithand sank the knife in his shoulder. The blacksmith turned anddealt him a terriffic blow with his stick, and both fell in thestreet. I don't think either was killed. I know the blacksmithwas not, for on the following San Jacinto Day, I saw anotherfellow chase him from the north side of market square clearto his shop, which he reached in time to shut the door and keepthe other fellow out. This other fellow had an ugly lookingbowie knife, too, but his friends came up and took him away. Idon't remember the name of the blacksmith, but I judge from